


Recovery, and Not Alone

by crushing83



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic Park III (2001)
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, M/M, Post-Movie(s), Pre-Slash, Recovery, sliiiiiightest hint of D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alan is worried about Billy, once they're both stateside and trying to return to their regular lives. He's not entirely sure of his motives, but he knows he wants to help. So, he tries his best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recovery, and Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [novembersmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/novembersmith/gifts).



> It started out and I thought it was going to one place, and the longer it sat with me, it started to go somewhere else. I don't think I knew exactly where it wanted to go, and if I'd had more time at the end, maybe I would've been able to see the place a bit better. Hopefully this isn't a complete train-wreck, and it will live up to the prompt you gave me in your eyes! *worried face*
> 
> (And, I don't mean for this to be an apology, even though it kinda reads like one. I just feel like I should say, "whoa, this kind of took me by surprise!")

The crash tore his attention from the work stretched out on the table in front of him, but it was the muttered oath and groan that had the man rising to his feet and searching out the source of the disaster.

Alan rounded the other side of the pair of overloaded bookshelves and saw his graduate student kneeling and bracing himself on the small stepladder. Books were scattered around him; his eyes were screwed shut and he was breathing deeply. Alan's chest ached at the sight. He was prepared for the mixed feelings and instincts that flooded his mind, but he pushed them aside because it wasn't time to try to muddle through what they meant. 

"Mr. Brennan?"

"Oh... I..." the younger man flinched and blinked up at his mentor. "I'm sorry," he said hurriedly. He tried to get up in a rush, too, but something---most likely the series of stitches still embedded in the skin of his torso---caused him to falter and he grumbled another curse under his breath. "Dr. Grant, I’ll have this cleaned up as soon as---"

"Here," the paleontologist said, offering his hand.

"I don't need help!"

"I won't tell anyone," he said quietly. "Just take my hand. Before you tear your stitches and bleed on my office floor," he added in what he hoped was a lighter, almost amused, tone of voice. He was uncomfortable, but he wanted to make Billy less uncomfortable; turning towards humour sometimes seemed to work and he hoped it would in that moment, too. 

A smile flickered briefly across Billy's face before he put his hand into Alan's and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. Alan cupped his elbow with his other hand and steadied Billy, watching carefully for any further signs of pain or distress.

"Thank you," Billy mumbled. He looked down at the floor and sighed. "I didn't mean to make a mess."

"Last year, you would've tried to pin this on me," Alan commented wryly. "Tried to scold me into a more organised system of filing."

'Last year,' really meant ‘a few months ago’---and that really meant before their trip to Isla Sorna. A lot of things were different before that terrible trip. Alan didn’t know if they’d ever recover completely; he knew he hadn’t completely recovered from the trip to Isla Nublar, either. His main concern was that it wouldn’t take Billy so long to move past the terrors he’d experienced. 

He secondary concern was a hope that he could somehow repair things between himself and the younger man. Alan knew he screwed up when he accused Billy of being no better than the people who populated those islands with genetically-engineered monsters, and when he’d had a chance, he apologised. Billy had almost immediately forgiven him for the things he had said, but there was something between them that kept their working relationship from returning to anything remotely resembling their earlier and easier rapport. 

And Alan wasn't entirely sure what it was anymore.

At first, there had been guilt and nightmares and pain and military men and lawyers. Even Alan, who had escaped relatively physically unscathed, had experienced a range of negative emotions. It had been worse for Billy, who was doped to the gills after surgery. He’d swing from anger to fear to despair without warning; Alan understood and he never allowed Billy’s mood to run him out of the hospital room when they’d returned stateside. 

Pain medication didn’t help Billy’s nightmares. Alan had almost become used to the dreams of velociraptors---they’d slowed but never really stopped, after Site A, so he’d been ready for the new nightmares of the dangerous, but beautiful, creatures after Side B. He hadn’t been prepared for watching Billy die so many times in his dreams, but he was slowly adapting. 

He hadn’t expected to be able to see Billy much after they returned. He’d gone back to Montana to close the dig site down, but one of the nurses from the hospital in San Diego, where they’d been taken for questioning and legal proceedings, had called Alan to tell him that Billy was not sleeping, was not recovering, and that if he knew the young man’s family, perhaps he could call someone to keep Billy company. 

Alan thought it was his guilt (over what he said to Billy after discovering the raptor eggs) fueling his protective instincts, but he wasn't sure about that anymore. He closed the site, left the paperwork and supplies in his garage to be sorted out upon his return, parked the trailer in his driveway, and then took the next flight to San Diego. 

Billy had been trying to stay awake, despite the exhaustion and pain medications. He napped a little under Alan’s guard-like presence, but it wasn’t until Alan put his foot down and ordered the young man to sleep that he started to rest more. 

Some sort of peace had settled into Billy's eyes the first time Alan had ordered him to take a deep breath and try to sleep. Alan knew some people responded better to orders or to suggestions but he had never suspected Billy would be the type to succumb to the former. He'd always been so free-spirited and rebellious. In his gurney, though, he looked haunted and a little bit broken. At the time, Alan guessed once he began to heal, he'd grow back into himself.

But, weeks later, while watching Billy try to piece himself back together on his office floor, Alan knew he wasn't returning to anything remotely resembling his old self.

Instead, he seemed to be withdrawing, Alan guessed, as he watched the young man try to wriggle free of his firm-but-gentle hold.

A blotchy pattern in red was spreading slowly onto Billy's t-shirt. Alan ignored his attempts at seeking freedom and guided him out of the stacks and towards the desk and ratty sofa. 

"Dr. Grant---"

"Sit. Just... sit somewhere."

Billy sighed but he obeyed, choosing the sofa for his perch. Alan rummaged in his filing cabinet for the first aid kit; when he found it, he returned to Billy and sat down next to him. 

Without any warning, he lifted Billy's shirt and began examining the damage. It wasn't much---a couple of strained stitches on either side of one that had popped---so he told the younger man to hold the hem of his shirt so he could clean and repair the damage. 

A few stinging swabs and a butterfly bandage later, Alan taped some gauze over that particular tear and eased the garment's fabric out of Billy's clenched hand. 

"There," he said quietly. "All set."

Billy nodded. 

Alan took advantage of their closeness and studied his graduate student. He looked as exhausted as he had in the hospital. He sighed and touched Billy's arm. 

"What are you working on?" he asked.

"The bibliography for next semester's class."

Alan nodded. "Alright. That'll keep until tomorrow."

Billy frowned. "You're kicking me out?"

"No, of course not," he replied, while trying to decide what Billy's panicked tone of voice meant. "You're coming home with me."

Billy's eyes watered. He bowed his head quickly and nodded. 

The show of relief pulled something tight, inside Alan's chest. He squeezed Billy's arm once, and then despite his growing protective instincts, he released it before heading to the coat rack; when he had their light jackets, he grabbed their well-used backpacks and gestured towards the door.

"You should---"

"The X-rays and scans will keep overnight, Mr. Brennan."

Billy frowned---and Alan wondered why---but he nodded and stood up. He let himself be ushered out of the office, down the hall, and to the doors that would open onto the path to the parking lot in which Alan preferred leaving his old but reliable pick-up truck. 

Alan didn't rush, knowing Billy's body couldn't handle much speed, but even that short trip seemed to exhaust the younger man. As soon as he was seated on the right side of the car, he closed his eyes and stifled a yawn.

"Are you just bringing me to your place so I can sort through the crap you brought back from the dig?"

Alan chuckled as he fastened his seatbelt. "No, I'm bringing you to my place so I can look after you. So you can get some rest," he replied. He slid the key into the ignition but waited until Billy buckled his own seatbelt before turning the key. "There's some paperwork you could look at if you get bored, but---"

"Why didn't you do it when you closed the site down?"

"I was in a bit of a hurry to get to San Diego." 

"I could've waited."

Alan sighed as he pulled out of his parking spot. "I couldn't have, Mr. Brennan. And I really don't think you could have, either," he said. 

"What?"

"You seem to be having trouble," Alan said, not really answering the question. "And I am concerned about you." 

"Oh." 

Alan gave a brief nod of his head and then steered his vehicle onto the street ahead in the direction of his home.

&&&&

"If this is just guilt or something, I'd really rather you just drop me off at my apartment," Billy grumbled as Alan guided him to his bedroom.

"It's not guilt," Alan assured him. He might not have been ready to examine his motives yet, but he knew he wasn't acting only out of guilt. "Now, I put out some jogging pants and a t-shirt---" he broke off and motioned towards the bed. "I changed the sheets and there's an extra blanket in the chest," he added, pointing at the wooden chest at the foot of the bed. "I brought your bag up---"

"I saw," Billy mumbled. 

Alan nodded. "I'll go into the kitchen and fix us something to eat. Will you be alright until---

"Why can't I help?" Billy asked. 

The older man pressed his lips together. When he looked at Billy, he saw some of how hurt and lost he was, and his chest ached again. "I want to help you," Alan said quietly. "Let me?"

"Why?"

"Because I lost a lot when I came back the first time," Alan explained. "It took a very long time to move on---and in some ways, I don't think I ever did. If I can help you, I'd like to." 

Billy opened his mouth. Then, he closed it. He repeated that twice, before sighing and nodding. 

"I'll get started on supper," Alan said. "Help yourself to a shower---towels in the closet---or just try to rest. I'll let you know when it's time to eat." 

"I... sure. Um, thanks, Dr. Grant." 

"I think it's time we dispense with the formalities, Mr. Brennan." 

Billy snorted. "You first." 

Alan smiled. "Billy." 

"Alan." 

He smiled more.

&&&&

Alan felt his way out of the bathroom and turned to go to the living room. In the near dark, he felt, more than saw, his way along the corridor.

A muffled cry caught his attention---and nearly sent him crashing into a narrow table, but since there were no witnesses he wasn't about to admit to his clumsiness. He steadied himself and turned towards the bedroom. 

The door hadn't been completely closed, so it was easy to nudge it open and peek inside. Alan didn't like the idea of spying on Billy, but his instincts were roaring to check on him, to make sure nothing was (too) wrong. 

The room was lit, since Billy left the bedside lamp turned onto its dimmest setting. Alan saw that he was curled up in a ball; as he neared the bed, he saw that Billy was shivering a little, too. 

Alan sighed. He walked into the room, closed the door, and approached the bed. He wasn't sure if he should wake the younger man, but he knew he didn't want Billy to suffer whatever nightmare he was enduring. 

On impulse, he sat down on the edge of the bed. He placed a hand on Billy's back and kept it there through his flinching to awareness. 

"What---"

"Billy, it's alright." 

"Oh. Dr. Grant---Alan---"

"Shhh," he whispered. 

"It's just a---"

"I know." 

Alan rubbed Billy's shoulder, mostly on impulse, and he continued to do so until most of the shivers and shakes subsided. A quiet tremor seemed to refuse to go away. Unsure of his place, but still certain enough to want to keep trying, he eased himself into a slumped position against the headboard and guided Billy so his back rested against his legs and hip. 

"You don't have to sit with me!" Billy insisted.

The older man sighed. "I know, Billy," he said in a quiet voice. "I want to." 

"It's not---it's not right!" 

Alan frowned. "Why? Men can't find comfort with their friends or---"

"No!" Billy yelped. "That isn't what I mean!" 

"Then please explain it to me," Alan insisted in a patient tone of voice. 

"You... you... _why_ are you being so nice to me?!" Billy exclaimed, shouting out to the darker corner of the room. "I screwed up! _I nearly got you killed!_ I nearly got the Kirbys killed, too! I... Udesky---" he broke off and took a deep breath. "Oh, _god_ , I screwed up, Alan... And you're being _way_ too nice and---"

Alan's hand moved from Billy's shoulder to his neck. He squeezed gently, but firmly, and he felt his body temperature rise at the way Billy fell silent. 

"You acted rashly, yes," Alan said quietly. "But, I know you. You've worked at my side for years. I know you'd never wish harm on anyone. You meant well, and I've already---"

"How can you forgive me?" Billy whispered. 

"I just can. Now, you have to learn how to forgive yourself." 

Billy sniffled. 

Alan released the other man's neck and started carding his fingers through his hair. Billy's sniffles turned into quiet cries into his pillow. 

The protective instincts were beginning to feel a little possessive. Alan closed his eyes and decided he should at least try to sort through his thoughts before going too far down this path with the man who had become more than his student and more than his assistant in the years they'd worked together. 

Truth be told, he never really understood feelings or knew what to do with them. His impulses hadn't always been well-received. He'd felt the same way once, with a lover, but she had found it suffocating. His instinct to protect and the desire to claim hadn't been wanted by her---Sharon... no, it was Shannon---so he learned to hide it. He was awkward enough that when the struggle was more difficult, it merely added to his scatterbrained (and awkward) professor appearance. Ellie had encouraged his feelings---of any kind, really---and when his protective urges leaked out, she welcomed them. But, he'd always been careful with her; he never wanted to scare her off, even after things soured between them. 

Billy wasn't a lover. Alan wasn't opposed to the idea of being with a man (and he could admit to himself that he wasn't opposed to the idea of being with Billy, either), but he'd never pursue someone if he wasn't sure that the attraction wasn't mutual. 

The feelings he was experiencing, though, weren't really inspired by sexual attraction. 

Billy was in trouble. He wanted to help him. Anything after that, would be... _after_.

&&&&

On the fifth night, Alan went into the bedroom after doing the dishes, and went to his closet to find something to wear to bed. He'd been interrupting Billy's nightmares for a few nights, and he'd decided that maybe it would be best if they both approached sleep from the same place.

"How long are you---" Billy broke off and cleared his throat. "How long can I stay here?" he asked, completing the question on the second attempt. 

"As long as you need." 

"Why?"

Alan smiled. "Haven't we been through this already, Billy?"

"You're not... falling apart." 

"I fell apart the first time," Alan admitted. "And, I struggled when I got back this time." He smiled a bit. "I smashed a laptop. I yelled at some of the students who were helping me pack up." 

"You didn't tell me that," Billy commented, eyes widening slightly. 

Alan smiled more. "I didn't want to ruin the illusion," he joked. 

Billy snorted. "Man, it doesn't ruin the illusion," he said. "It adds to it." 

"Hey, now, be nice," Alan replied. 

"Just being honest." 

Alan chuckled. "I suppose you are," he agreed. "I'm going to get a shower. Or, do you want to go first?"

"I'll wash up when you're done," Billy answered. 

Alan nodded and ducked into the bathroom, pajama pants and t-shirt in hand. He went through the motions of showering and preparing for bed---not dawdling, but not hurrying, either, in order to give Billy some time---and then he returned to the bedroom. 

The younger man passed him as he tossed his clothes into the laundry basket by the door. Alan gave him a wide berth but didn't ignore him. He watched Billy carefully, as they went through their end of day routines. He was moving a bit more easily, as if both his body and mind were beginning to heal and unburden themselves, but Alan wasn't sure if he was reading too much into his body language or not. 

It took Alan (and Ellie, because they'd been processing everything together) a few weeks before he felt like the world was righting itself again. He knew he could be a stick-in-the-mud, and Billy was much more accepting of change, but there were very heavy things weighing on his mind and those things didn't erode away after a few days in someone else's company. 

Alan turned the bedding down and rearranged the pillows. Billy hadn't returned from the bathroom and the door hadn't closed, so he turned and watched his houseguest. 

Billy was bracing himself on the sink. He was dressed for bed, his clothes scattered on the floor. His eyes were closed. He shook his head every few minutes, as if he was arguing with his thoughts. 

With a sigh, Alan went to him and put a hand on his back before sliding it up to his shoulder.

"Bed, Billy," he said, squeezing gently. 

"I feel... so out of---"

"I know." 

"I don't understand why you're not kicking me out." 

"I know." 

"Do you understand why you're not kicking me out?"

Alan chuckled. "Sort of," he confessed. 

"Enlighten me." 

"Not now. It's bedtime, _now_." 

Billy sighed. "Alan---"

"Now." 

"I'm not---" he broke off, shook his head, and sighed. 

Alan guided him towards the doorway, towards the bed. He sighed again and obeyed, followed closely by Alan as he settled in between the quilts and mattress. While Billy settled, Alan reached back and turned off the bedside lamp. He guessed it would be easier for his bedmate to talk in the darkness---he hoped it would help, anyway. 

"What's on your mind, Billy?"

"Nothing," Billy mumbled. 

"Billy." 

There was a long pause and then Billy's mind seemed to have exploded as words spilled from him into the darkness around them. "I don't need a babysitter! At work or on my own! I don't want to be a burden---which is _exactly_ what I am here, Alan! I don't... I screwed up enough for you, and now you're saddled with taking care of me?

"And _what the fuck_ is happening here? How can I feel so scared and guilty and fucked up---but at the same time, safe! You've never... you've _never_ tried to take care of me before. We're not like that. Why now? Am I broken just enough for you? Or am I not broken enough?! You want to watch me fall apart? _Go ahead!_

" _I don't understand!_ I know I screwed up... I know we keep going over this, and you keep not answering, or not giving me all the information, or whatever, because maybe you're some sort of control freak---and maybe you feel like you owe me? That's the only reason I can think of, no matter what you tell me! But, you _don't_ owe me! _I_ owe you! I screwed up! I fucked _so much_ up, Alan, and I don't know what... I don't know... _I just don't know!_ "

Alan touched Billy's arm. It was trembling slightly. When the younger man didn't flinch away, he pulled him into a hug. It wasn't finessed or completely comfortable, but it was physical contact and Alan felt there could be something restorative in that. 

"Breathe, Billy," he whispered. 

He obeyed, sucking in a breath that was interrupted by a hitching as if he were struggling to hold onto a sob. 

"Let it out," Alan advised. 

Billy obeyed as he had all week---with initial reluctance that melted into some sort of acceptance as time passed. It took a little while, but eventually he was shouting and crying and shaking and expelling more thoughts and feelings than Alan had ever seen him share before. He felt afraid and a little awkward, but he also felt honoured to see (figuratively speaking) Billy's emotions. 

When the storm passed, Billy was turned to face Alan, his face buried in Alan's chest, and Alan had his arms around his body. The younger man was sniffling every few minutes, but apart from that, he was quiet and still. 

"I'm sorry," Billy whispered. 

"I've already forgiven you," Alan whispered back. He rubbed his hand over the line of Billy's spine. "And you were very brave, rescuing Erik."

"But---"

"You were not the reason they were on the island," Alan reminded him. 

Billy sighed and nodded.

"I'm putting it behind me," the older man said. "Are you going to be able to?" 

"I... I'll try." 

Alan smiled into the darkened room. "Good," he whispered. 

"I'm not alone here, am I?"

"Never," Alan promised. 

Billy tucked his face into Alan's chest and mumbled something. Alan tilted his head and tried to make out the younger man's words, but failed. He lightly tapped the back of the other man's head. 

"Didn't quite catch that, Billy." 

"What are we doing here?" he asked after lifting his head. 

"That wasn't what you said." 

Billy snorted. "Will you answer me?"

"I'd say 'sleeping,' but that isn't true, since we're talking," Alan replied cryptically. 

He'd analysed his thoughts and reactions until his head ached, over the last few days, but apart from the certainty that he wanted to protect and help Billy, he wasn't sure what his other motives were for being so attentive. He suspected things; the idea of admitting to them was a little more than terrifying. 

"Alan." 

"Does it matter, right now?" he asked. 

"As long as you're not going to freak out, no," Billy whispered. 

"Are you going to... 'freak out?'" Alan asked. 

"Got a lot of it out of my system." 

"Yes," Alan agreed. 

"And I guess... if you're still willing to babysit---"

Alan cut him off. "It's _not_ babysitting." 

"I know. But, that's what I'm calling it." 

"To enhance your masculinity?" Alan asked, teasing him a bit. 

He was rewarded for his efforts with a brief laugh. Billy snorted after the moment passed. "Yeah, something like that." 

"You're not a burden, and you're not alone," Alan reminded him. "We'll figure out the rest as we go." 

"Okay," Billy whispered. 

They fell silent after that. Alan suspected Billy was still thinking, and since he felt like they'd breached some sort of obstacle in the healing process, he was content to lie there and enjoy the moment as best as he could. 

Billy interrupted the quiet with a soft snore. Alan smiled and rubbed his back. The younger man wriggled, pressing forward as his arms tightened. 

Alan mentally set aside the muddled analysis of his intentions and returned the embrace.


End file.
